


Hot Zone

by R3dWr1t1ngH00d



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Vigilante Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R3dWr1t1ngH00d/pseuds/R3dWr1t1ngH00d
Summary: Mercenaries Lance, Pidge, and Hunk get a security gig for a mining company that Shiro and Keith are determined to run out of the Red Valley. A Fallout-esque Klance AU.Written in response to a Discord Prompt. It just kind of started writing itself.Rating may increase.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 10





	Hot Zone

**Author's Note:**

> TW: guns/gunfire, descriptions of field/trauma medicine/wound repair

The eye-strain was starting to get to Lance as he worked to repair the sight on his laser rifle in the fading light. The dust from this God forsaken desert had made it nearly unusable after three days of travel. Pidge sat nearby patching wear and tear in Chip’s rubber joint covers, cursing under their breath any time they pulled one back to reveal even  _ more _ sand. Though he’d originally insisted that bringing Chip was a bad idea, he was actually grateful to have the Android around to carry equipment every once in a while. He was oddly fun to talk to as well.

“Dinner!” Hunk called from the front of the small rocky cave where they’d made camp. It had been truly fortunate for them to have stumbled across a few jackalope tracks. If Lance had to eat one more dried mystery meat ration, he might puke. 

Theoretically, they were only a day’s walk from their destination: a small settlement in the middle of the desert where they were promised work as expedition guides for the mining company settling up shop there. What they’d be mining way out here was anyone’s guess, and none of their business. TerraCorp was paying them handsomely not to care. 

“Remind me again why they couldn’t air drop us in?” Pidge grumbled, taking their seat next to Hunk by the cooking fire. 

“There was a sandstorm predicted to ravage the area for the duration of the week,” Chip reported as he rolled up behind Pidge, making them groan. 

“Too bad they wouldn’t give us a bigger advance,” Hunk grumbled. “Hoverbikes would’ve made this a little easier.” 

“You’d be hard pressed to get me on one of those time bombs,” Lance laughed. “This dust would have us cleaning out the exhaust systems every few hours just to make sure the things didn’t explode!”

“Fair,” Hunk shrugged. 

“Junkcycles would’ve been nice, though,” Pidge thought aloud, adjusting their goggles over their eyes.

“It would’ve been hard to make the gasoline last with how deep the sand is,” Lance pointed out. 

“You just think of everything, don’t you?” Pidge grouched at him. He knew they didn’t mean it. 

“Just trying to see the bright side,” Lance explained. “We could be lugging empty Junkcycles on top of having to walk through the desert. Not to mention the motors would attract way too much attention.”

“We haven’t seen anything other than jackalopes since we started,” Hunk reminded him, rolling his eyes at Lance’s over-caution. 

“Just because we haven’t seen anyone doesn’t mean they haven’t seen us,” Lance insisted. “There’s a reason TerraCorp hired a bunch of mercs to work at their mining camp.”

Hunk and Pidge shared an annoyed look before returning to their meal. Lance was just so suspicious. It was almost comical.  _ Almost. _

They ate in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound for miles around. Lance enjoyed this part. This was the reason he’d ever agreed to do freelance merc jobs. Even though he was exhausted, and grumpy, and had sand in the most unmentionable of places, he wouldn’t trade silent meals with his two best friends for anything. They’d grown up together, trained together, gone to war together… and though they were only in their late twenties, the lifetime of memories and trust between the three of them was something Lance felt was unbreakable, and he felt it most in quiet moments like this. 

“You got night watch, Chip?” Lance asked unnecessarily as he collected their tin plates to rinse (sparingly of course) using water from one of his hydroskins. 

“You bet!” the robot replied, chipper as ever to be recognized for how useful he truly was. 

“Wake us up if you see anything, little buddy,” Lance smiled, patting the Android on the head as he walked further into the cave to lay down and snuggle into his bedroll, thankful they’d been able to afford thermal sleeping bags considering how freaking cold the desert got at night. 

“G’night Hunk! G’night Pidge!” 

Each of them responded in kind as they laid down too. Normally, Lance might’ve had to convince Pidge to go to bed, but after three days in the desert, they seemed to have given up on their nocturnal habits in favor of resting their undoubtedly aching muscles and itchy skin. Lance himself was looking forward to an actual shower tomorrow night. He stopped himself from scratching his fingernails through his hair, certain that the amount of sand and dust there would make him more uncomfortable than he already was. He was more than aware of the amount of sand he just couldn’t completely shake from his sleeping bag as he cuddled into it. The cave floor was uncomfortable at best, but all three of them had slept on worse, he reminded himself. He found his mind wandering to supply inventory. They had plenty to get them through, even if they got lost somehow and it took them an extra day. Much past that, though, they’d be in some real trouble, specifically in the water department. They’d only taken a little more than they’d need. Water was too heavy to be carrying much extra of it on a four day trek into the desert, and though he was certain people did actually live out here, they hadn’t seen a single homestead or settlement. It was somewhere among these thoughts that Lance fell asleep, if he could really call it that. 

It was the kind of sleep that had him drifting back and forth between dreaming and reality. Sometimes he was aware of the wind at the mouth of the cave, and other moments he was having pretend conversations with his ex back at the base in Radium City. He much preferred the wind. Even though the sleep was light, the dreams were always so vivid, a product of his overactive, hypervigilant mind, he was afraid. Nuclear war had done a number on all of their psyches, that was certain. He could almost hear the traffic on the streets below their shared apartment. He turned away from Allura, the conversation not exactly the same as it happened, but worse, somehow, though it wasn’t happening in words so much as it was just feelings. He was struggling to hear her over the noise, and she was shouting his name. Except then she wasn’t. It wasn’t Allura at all, but Chip’s insistent voice and a light tapping on his face. 

Lance startled awake, scrambling for his rifle as he realized the sound of Junkcycles was very real and very close, and though the embers of their fire were only barely glowing in the dark, the absolute darkness of the desert made them shine like a living orange beacon. Hunk stirred awake easily, but Pidge had sunk deep into sleep, fighting off Chip and pulling their sleeping bag further over their head. 

“Get them up,” Lance commanded at Hunk in a whisper-shout. “Quiet down Chip. Good job.” Lance slunk to the front of the cave, back pressed close against the wall. He flipped the night vision setting on his scope, praying the sand hadn’t damaged it, and brought the rifle up to his shoulder. He was able to tuck himself into a crevice near the cave mouth as the Junkcycle motors revved even louder. They seemed to be coming from the same direction as the three of them had come from earlier that day. The wind had more than covered their tracks, but Lance mentally kicked himself for not insisting they covered the campfire. Hunk had reasoned that they’d need it for coffee in the morning, and Lance was sorely outnumbered when the subject was caffeinated life force. Pidge subsisted on the stuff. 

In the green-filmed sight, Lance watched as three Junkcycles rolled into view. All three riders wore headgear, so he couldn’t really ID them past the fact that they were definitely not military. The one in the front wore a full helmet with a face shield, fancy enough that the whole screen likely had a night vision mod. The rider in the middle of the three had a short ponytail, goggles not unlike the ones on Lance’s own head, and a bandana across their nose and mouth. It was at this point that Lance noticed the third vehicle wasn’t a Junkcycle at all, but an automated ATV manned by what appeared to be two Security Drones, and though the sirens and lights weren’t blaring, the two in front were  _ definitely _ running away from it if their evasive driving was any indicator as they weaved in and out between the sand dunes. Lance watched as the one in front lifted a hand to signal the second and the two peeled off in different directions, causing the ATV to choose a target. 

“What’s going on?” Hunk whispered, startling Lance with his sudden proximity. 

“Two riders outrunning a Security ATV. Automated. No identifying information on any of the vehicles.”

The ATV chose to follow the second rider, which made perfect sense given it was the closer target. Of course the CPU would go for the easier option of the two of them. As they spun around away from each other, the first rider doubled back to get behind the Security vehicle and Lance watched as the rider appeared to jam his right arm into the wheel well, shattering the back axle. 

“Holy crow! How did he not break his arm!?” 

“Must be biotech,” Pidge supplied sleepily. They adjusted their goggles to zoom in on the now broken down Security ATV. The Androids disconnected from the vehicle hurriedly, aiming their built in weapons at the bikes that circled them. 

“Those are older SEC-12 models,” Chip observed. “No AI on board and those are likely not just stun phasers. Someone is using old fashioned, heavy duty, robotic security measures to prevent hacking and info leaks around here. And loss of sentient beings employed by the owner. They’re expecting attacks.”

“Looks like it was warranted,” Hunk added. 

“Hit the deck!” Lance shouted as the popping of automatic gunfire filled the air. With the Junkcycles circling the two Androids like that, bullets were sure to spray up the dune towards their cave. All four of them laid down quickly and rolled towards the cave walls as bullets ricocheted around the cave mouth. When the buzzing of the Junkcycle engines and the gunfire ceased, Lance motioned for the rest of them to stay down as he sat up and aimed through his sight. He was honestly shocked to see the two people standing over the bots, having been certain the Androids would have bested a pair of Junkcycle riders. 

“They made it,” Lance said, honestly relieved. At least until the bandana-wearing rider motioned towards the cave. “Shit, they’re coming this way.”

“What do we do? The cave isn’t that deep!” Hunk sat up to charge his own laser gun, the whistle of the energy core seeming to echo out of the cave. Lance cursed under his breath as both Junkcycle riders seemed to have detected the sound, both of them flinching down and making for their bikes. Now that he was watching them, Lance noted that Ponytail was limping and struggled to get their bike situated back up onto its wheels. 

“Dammit. One of them’s hurt,” Lance reported. “Pidge go grab the med kit from my pack.”

“You’re joking,” Pidge scoffed. 

“We’re a day out from the nearest med center. If it’s a bullet wound, they won’t make it,” Lance tossed over his shoulder as he ran out of the cave, rifle swung back and over his shoulder. He waved at the two cyclists, as he crested the sand dune between them. 

“Please don’t get shot, Lance…” Hunk mumbled loudly. He did his best to stoke the fire and spark it back to life, knowing they’d need to freshly sterilize any instruments if it was indeed a bullet wound. 

He had to admit, he hadn’t really thought this through, and felt as though he may have made a mistake as the Junkcycles made their way towards Lance. But what else was he going to do? Their position was going to be compromised anyway. It was better that they seemed friendly rather than hostile. The bikes stopped a little more than twenty feet short of where Lance stood waiting for them. Cutting his engine, the one with the helmet pulled it off their head, but laid a hand on the handgun at their hip. 

“What’re you doing out here?!” 

They had a fresh gash across the bridge of their nose, deep enough that Lance was certain it would scar. A shock of white hair at the front of the person’s head stood out even in the dark against the high and tight hairstyle. Lance recognized ex-military when he saw one. Probably special forces with the muscles on this guy. The question now was which side of the war had they been on.

“I could ask you the same question. Why were you running from Security Bots?”

“Can we skip the small talk?” Ponytail spat from behind the bandana. There was blood caked to the edge of it, and Lance could see where a trail of it had dried down their throat. 

“You two don’t look so good,” Lance agreed. “We might be able to help. C’mon.” 

“Shiro,” the one on the left offered, kicking the bike back into gear. 

“Name’s Lance,” he offered. 

“Keith,” the third gritted out as they struggled to restart the engine on their Junkcycle. They cursed under their breath. “I don’t have the leg strength,” they finally admitted. “Shit.”

“Woah, there,” Lance said as he stepped forward to keep the bike from tipping over. Shiro started to ditch their bike to help, but Lance held up a hand. 

“I’ll get it. Meet you up there.”

He hopped onto the bike behind Keith and kicked the pedal, relieved when the engine started without dumping them both off of it. Pidge, Hunk, and Chip stood waiting by the cave mouth. When Lance cut the engine, Keith’s body went rigid. 

  
“Shit, I’m gonna pass out,” Keith panted. 

“I got you, buddy,” Lance assured, quickly stepping off the Junkcycle and pulling Keith off of it, simultaneously kicking it the opposite direction so it didn’t fall into them. Lance pulled Keith into a princess carry before Keith completely lost consciousness and hauled both of them up the slight slope and into the cave. Shiro ran to help get Keith to the ground. 

“Keith, come on, wake up…” Shiro pleaded. 

“What happened?” Pidge opened the Med Kit next to them and started looking over Keith for injuries. 

“I’m not sure. He was limping though.” Shiro tugged the bandana off of Keith’s face and removed his goggles. Hunk finally got the fire going again, casting light and warmth over the group of them. When Shiro’s hand brushed Keith’s leg and came back bloodied, they both cursed, sharing a concerned look. 

“Dammit, why does he have to wear black pants?” Shiro muttered, reaching for Keith’s belt. Noting how bad Shiro was shaking, Pidge reached out a hand. 

“I was a field medic.” They looked Shiro over briefly, noting severe damage to the biometric arm that glinted in the firelight. “I can take a look at that for you too. I’m versed in cybernetics too. I’m Pidge. They/Them. I can help him, but I need you to relax.”

“Shiro. He/Him,” he introduced. “Thank you Pidge… He’s my little brother. I need him to be okay.”

“He will be. Go sit with Chip and let him run diagnostics on your arm. Lance! Come help me get this guy’s pants off.” Pidge turned on their kerosene lamp to provide more light and began inspecting the cut on Keith’s face. 

“That is hands-down the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do. You finally beat the request for a sweat sample.” Lance chuckled as he lifted Keith to aid in the removal of his black cargo pants. 

“Shut up,” Pidge grumbled. They quickly located the source of the bleeding; a deep gash in Keith’s thigh. “Jumping some high tension wire fencing?” Pidge asked Shiro over their shoulder. 

“You’re good,” Shiro muttered as Chip plugged a wire into the port at Shiro’s wrist. 

“I’m surprised it wasn’t electric,” Pidge admitted.

“Oh it was until we blew up the transformer.” Shiro chuckled darkly. 

“We’ll talk about that later. How much does he weigh?”

Shiro began divulging more medical history to Pidge who sorted some items as they pulled them out of the Med Kit. Keith groaned as he started to come to.

“You with me, buddy?” Lance asked, patting Keith’s face lightly. 

“He’s in shock. This is pretty deep, the pain is probably making him lose consciousness. Here, wipe down an area on his lateral thigh and inject him with this,” they ordered, handing over an alcohol wipe and a pressurized auto-injector. “Does he have any allergies?”

“No, but he used to be a junkie,” Shiro supplied. 

“Fuck. Wait, Lance.” Pidge placed their hand on Lance’s wrist. “Narcotics?”

“The list of things he didn’t use is shorter,” Shiro sighed. 

“How’d he get off it?” Pidge turned their attention to the wound. “This needs stitches, at least. I’m going to have to give him  _ something _ , so I can clean the damn sand out of it.”

“I quit cold turkey, and I won’t go back to it,” Keith groaned, finally lucid enough to speak again. 

“Halve the dose,” Pidge ordered. “Twist the dial back down to 2 instead of 4. Then give it to him.” They redirected their attention to Keith. “You’ll probably feel like you’re detoxing again tomorrow.” 

“I did it once,” Keith shrugged, wincing as Lance pressed the applicator against Keith’s bare thigh and pressed the button, the device making the tiniest of hissing noises as the compressed air shot pain medication into Keith. It seemed to help a little. 

“Get the kettle and start boiling some water to sterilize the suture kit. I’m gonna end up using most of the saline to rinse this. Thank God we grabbed epinephrine on our way out of town.” Pidge handed Lance the suture kit and sent him on his way. 

“The internal cybernetics of your arm appear to be firing appropriately. The damage to your appendage appears to be entirely external, though you’ve got a few crushed joints that might need replacing,” Chip reported. 

“That’s a relief,” Shiro admitted. “Rewiring fucking sucks.”

“You can say that again,” Lance snorted. Before squatting to join Shiro at the fire with the kettle of water, he lifted his own pant leg, revealing the metallic ankle of his own cybernetic prosthesis. “Mine is nowhere near as high tech as yours, though. Your’s is like, military grade. Mine is just functional.”

“Count yourself lucky, then,” Shiro sighed, causing Lance’s eyebrows to shoot up in question. “I didn’t want mine to be like this, but I was still serving when they did the surgery. My commander chose to make it a weapon so he could redeploy me.”

“You’re right. I was lucky, then,” Lance nodded, turning his attention back to the fire. 

“What branch?” Shiro allowed himself to relax, but he kept checking Keith over his shoulder. 

“The three of us were Alliance Army, Recon. You?” Lance had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to like Shiro’s answer. 

“No kidding.” Shiro shook his head, eyeing Hunk who still held his gun across his chest. 

Keith coughed in laughter behind them. 

“You have a fucking magnet for Alliance soldiers, don’t you?” Keith scoffed. 

“New Order, then,” Hunk concluded aloud. 

“Special Ops,” Shiro nodded. He held both hands out in front of him. “But the war’s over. We both lost. Can’t we let it go?”

Lance snorted. 

“That’s cute. How many innocents did you have to take out to carry out orders, huh?” Lance’s eyes narrowed at Shiro, earning an exaggerated eye roll. 

“Yeah, because Alliance forces didn’t then bomb Order Occupied cities full of their own civilians.” 

“No. We didn’t.” 

“GUYS! Knock it off. Shiro’s right. The war’s over, and we have other things to worry about right now.” Pidge threw an empty bandage box, nailing Lance in the back of the head. “Get me your coat. He’s starting to shiver.”

“What about you, Keith?” Hunk asked after a while, unable to quell his curiosity and honestly hoping the talking would distract Keith from the pain of Pidge poking and prodding at his leg. 

“New Order, Espionage,” Keith managed, sitting up carefully to allow himself to be wrapped up in Lance’s surprisingly heavy bomber jacket. “Until I got medically discharged for a back injury.”

“That explains the addiction,” Pidge nodded. “Can’t wire an entirely new spine just yet.”

“You must know my doctor,” Keith chuckled, flinching. “Good to know he wasn’t lying just to get me hooked on the stuff.”   
  


“I didn’t say that,” they sighed. “Pain management patients are patients for life. In more predatory practices, getting people hooked on narcotics meant guaranteed money every six months for bloodwork. You know, back when we had a healthcare system at all.”

“Yeah. That’s how I lost my prescription. I’m bad at keeping appointments.” Keith grimaced as Pidge rinsed the gash once more.

“How’s that suture kit coming, Lance?”

“Ready for ya, Doc,” Lance reported, walking it over to Pidge. 

“Think you can hold the wound closed for me?”

Lance paled, but nodded, gently placing his hands on either side of the gash, careful not to touch where Pidge had cleaned the area. 

“This might be… uncomfortable,” Pidge warned, looking up at Keith. 

“As long as he doesn’t pass out, I’ll be fine,” Keith chuckled, looking at Lance. 

“Hey!”

“Seriously Lance if you can’t do it I can have Chip do it. The only downside is that because Chip’s an Android, he doesn’t have the best sense of how hard he’s holding things and I don’t want to cause more bruising than there’s already going to be. Same for Shiro’s hand, especially with the amount of damage to it. And Hunk  _ will _ pass out.”

“Hey!” Hunk shouted from behind them. 

“Don’t act like it’s not true!”

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it’s nice,” Hunk grumbled. 

“I got it, I got it,” Lance insisted, heaving a sigh. 

The first poke of the needle had Keith fighting not to squirm. By the time Pidge had tied the first suture off, Keith was sweating bullets, his hands fisted into his eye sockets.

“Alright, alright. That’s horrible. Please tell me you have lidocaine or  _ something _ in that Med Kit.” 

Pidge shook their head apologetically. 

“Shiro, come distract him,” Pidge suggested. 

Shiro nodded and relocated to Keith’s other side to take his hand in his human one and place his cooler cybernetic hand across Keith’s forehead. 

“You’re alright kid, it’s just some stitches.”

“Yeah, in the  _ muscle of my leg _ . And I’m not a kid!” Keith did his best not to move as Pidge started the next one. Shiro talked Keith through a handful of breathing exercises while Pidge worked. They were the quickest field medic Lance knew, which eased his own nerves as they put the initial layer of dissolvables into Keith’s leg. They explained almost robotically that those sutures would likely itch and cause slight swelling as they were absorbed. By the time they’d started the skin sutures, Keith was so exhausted from tensing up he was half asleep, taking sips of water here and there per Shiro’s insistence. Once Pidge was done, they gently wiped away any leftover debris and sat back, popping their back, clearly sore from having sat hunched over Keith’s leg for so long. 

“Antibiotic ointment and a bandage please,” Pidge pointed, standing. 

“Me?” Lance questioned. 

“For the same reasons as before, and the fact that I am exhausted, yes you. Make sure it’s not too tight. And get it covered before sand gets on it. Now.”

Before Lance could argue, Pidge had walked over to their sleeping bag. 

“Thank you Pidge,” Shiro murmured after them.   
  
“Don’t thank me yet. He still needs a course of antibiotics that I don’t have to give him. You’ll need to get to town as soon as possible tomorrow.”

“Hey, man, can you lift your leg a little?” Lance asked quietly, causing Keith to stir from his half-consciousness. 

“Here, I got it,” Shiro sighed, reaching over to carefully bend Keith’s leg at the knee. 

Keith hissed at the slight pull of the sutures against his moving skin, eliciting a fervent apology from Shiro. As quickly and sanitarily as he could manage, Lance smeared a triple antibiotic ointment across the site and laid a bandage pad along the line of sutures. It didn’t occur to him until this point just how awkward of a location Keith’s injury was in, as he realized he’d need to be passing the bandage material between Keith’s legs. He did his best to ignore the light flush he felt rise to his face, but it seemed Keith, in his pain-induced haze, was determined to make this as difficult as possible.

“Take me to dinner first, sheesh,” the man mumbled. Shiro chortled. 

“He’s like that intoxicated too,” Shiro explained.

“Perverted?” Lance guessed. 

“Flirty and gay as fuck.” 

“Throwin’ stones from your glass house, Shiro,” Keith tsked him. He watched Lance work from under heavy-lidded eyes.

Shiro shook his head fondly. “There he is,” Shiro chuckled, ruffling his brother’s ponytail. “Dammit," he added ruefully. "I don’t know how I’ll get him back tomorrow. He can’t drive his bike like this.”

“Where’re you headed?”

“The closest place is Arroyo. There’s a clinic there.” Shiro scrubbed his face. “Hopefully we didn’t cross any security cams on our way out of there…” he mumbled behind his hand. 

“Out of where, exactly?” Lance quirked an eyebrow at Shiro. 

“There’s a company drilling and causing sandslides and tectonic disturbance in the area. They have stabilizing equipment, so it doesn’t bother them, but the locals aren’t able to afford shit like that. Entire houses have collapsed. The company is unwilling to negotiate because they ‘own’ the area of the Valley they’re drilling. We managed to sneak in and blow up one of their rigs earlier today. Pretty easy to do considering how much gasoline they use. But we weren’t able to sneak by those last two Androids. I destroyed their memory processors though, so nothing they had saved on their hard drives is recoverable. And I doubt their Trackers have been working since we got past the Cliffs…” Shiro noted the exhausted look on Lance’s face. “What?”

“You’re not talking about TerraCorp, are you?”

“I am.”   
  


“Fuck.” Lance sat back on his heels, tying the bandage and tucking the end into a strip. “They hired us to defend their equipment from you.”

“And you took the job?!” Keith interrupted suddenly, rage bringing some life back to his face.

“We’re Mercs, dude. We go where they pay us.” Lance crossed his arms over his knees. “Also, you’re the vigilantes committing the crimes. If you weren’t causing them problems, we wouldn’t be here.”

Weakly but with surprising speed, Keith pulled a knife, out of where Lance had no idea, and pointed it at Lance.

“They’re the ones threatening people and collapsing buildings!”

“Keith, let it rest for now,” Shiro sighed, pushing Keith’s wrist down. 

“There’s got to be another way to get them to move,” Lance suggested.

“Have you met these guys?” Keith laughed incredulously. 

“No, actually,” Lance shrugged.

“Whatever they’re after, they aren’t willing to leave the Valley until they’ve extracted it, at any expense.” Keith begrudgingly sheathed the blade. 

“Well all that aside, I can help get Keith to Arroyo if you don’t mind making a trip back to pick up my team. Junkcycles will make our trip a lot easier.”

Shiro’s hand was intercepted on its way to shake Lance’s by Keith’s. 

“Really Shiro? They work for TerraCorp!”

“They work for a Merc Company. We’ve only got supplies for one more night anyway. They helped you, and you need to get to Arroyo as soon as possible. We’re doing it.”

They shook on it, and Lance got to work unzipping his thermal sleeping bag to offer it to Shiro and Keith to use as a blanket. Out of a newfound abundance of caution, Lance kicked sand over the fire until it was completely extinguished, Hunk’s protests dying on his lips. 

“Scoot over, Hunk,” Lance sighed as he set his rifle down next to Hunk’s sleeping bag. He was happy Hunk’s sleeping bag was big enough for the both of them as he slid his legs down into it. 

“You want Little Spoon or Jet Pack?” Hunk teased, elbowing Lance. 

“Go to sleep, Hunk.” 

“Grumpy pants...” 

“Very.” Lance threw his arm over his eyes and willed his brain to turn off. As if their assignment wasn’t difficult enough. Now their opponents were ex-New Order Military with backgrounds in Black Ops. And they’d helped them. The last thing Lance was conscious of was the quiet shuffle of Pidge rolling over in their sleeping bag, and Chip’s treads on the sand. 

\-------------

“Can you move your leg?” Lance asked Keith from where he stood over the injured man, black cargo pants in his hand. He’d patched the large cut in the leg while he waited for everyone else to get up and wanted to get Keith’s legs covered before he started sweating. 

“Not really,” Keith sighed. “Not while sitting, anyway.”

Shiro had stepped out of the cave to pre-trip the cycles, and Hunk and Pidge were enjoying breakfast at the cave mouth. 

“Let’s get you up, then,” Lance huffed. He knelt down next to Keith’s good leg and allowed Keith to wrap his arms around his shoulders, bracing him upward until he got his foot under him. 

“Alright, go ahead.” 

They stood together, Keith swallowing a painful groan. Lance leaned him against the cave wall and stepped away to shake out his pants and roll up the right leg so Keith could step through it quickly. 

“Do you think you can bear weight on it?”

  
With a grimace, Keith touched his foot flat to the ground and tried to gradually transfer his weight to the leg. Lance was just barely able to keep them both upright when Keith’s leg buckled under him. 

“It’d be easier without the splitting fucking headache,” Keith admitted. 

“Need water?”

“No, I need another hit of that syringe,” Keith chuckled. “It’s just the withdrawal Pidge mentioned last night. I’ll be fine. I just need something to brace myself on…”

“Chip!” Lance called. The robot rolled over to them, Pidge’s pack in his hands. “Can you hold him up so I can get his pants on?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Chip chirped. Keith placed his elbows heavily on Chip’s shoulders and leaned on the short Android just hard enough to lift his good foot off the ground high enough for Lance to get his pant leg past his ankle. 

“Ugh. There is going to be so much sand in my boots,” Keith complained, spying where they sat next to Lance’s now folded sleeping bag. 

“Well it was better than sand in your leg,” Lance shrugged. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” Keith stepped back on his good leg and leaned back against the cave wall, avoiding looking at Lance’s face as his pants were pulled up carefully over his thighs and undershorts. “I can do that part,” Keith gruffed as Lance moved to fasten the button. They were silent as Lance stood with Keith’s utility belt in his hand, waiting for Keith to be ready for it. “Thanks for helping us last night,” Keith said as he took the belt from Lance. “I probably wouldn’t have made it back to Arroyo without Pidge’s patch job.”

“I’m just glad you ended up here instead of some random spot in the desert. We definitely wouldn’t have gone looking for you if you hadn’t landed literally at the edge of our camp, even if we had heard the Junkcycles.”

“No heroes among war rejects,” Keith scoffed. 

“Just Mercs and Vandals it seems,” Lance agreed.

“Thanks all the same.”

“You bet.”

The ride was excruciating for Keith. Lance had to keep ensuring the man wasn’t passing out in front of him with how weak he was against the bouncing of the bike. He had no way to stabilize his right side, so the trip was a lot slower than any of them would’ve liked. When they arrived, Arroyo was way busier than Lance expected it to be. They were able to get Keith settled in at a clinic where the staff seemed to know him and Shiro, which made Lance uneasy, but he kept it to himself. If the entire town was against TerraCorp’s operations, it made their job that much harder. 

Though the doctor insisted Shiro’s face needed attention, the man brushed it off in favor of completing their task. They filled up the Junkcycles and returned to the cave to pick up Pidge and Chip, having brought Hunk on the first trip so that he could shop around the market for ingredients for dinner. They ended up having to detach Chip’s treads to be hauled on the seat behind Shiro while they set the torso of the Android in front of Shiro to balance the bike out. Pidge opted to ride behind Lance in favor of shielding their face from the sand. Lance couldn’t blame them. It was a relief when a trip that would’ve taken nearly all of their remaining supplies and an entire day of walking only ended up costing them half a day of travel, but when they arrived at Arroyo the second time, Lance could feel the stiffness from the riding in every muscle. He helped Shiro secure the bikes at the clinic before parting ways.

“No offense, but I hope I don’t see you later,” Lance laughed. 

“None taken. No offense, but you probably will.” Shiro waved as he turned. “Take care, Lance.”

“Yeah, you too.” Lance shook his head and made for the market to catch up with Pidge and Hunk. They decided to camp out just outside of the town’s border to save money. The tiny Inn wasn’t expensive, but they agreed refilling their hydroskins was a far superior investment. They’d shower at the TerraCorp base in the morning. 

“What do you think TerraCorp is mining?” Pidge asked after a long while as the three of them sat around their campfire. In the dim light it offered, Lance watched Hunk’s face as he scowled. 

“None of our business,” he shrugged. “It really sucks that they’re putting the civilians here at risk though. Maybe if we can keep those guys from blowing up more rigs, they can get their stuff and get out.”

“Unlikely,” Lance sighed, laying back onto his sleeping bag. “If they find  _ some _ of what they’re mining, they’ll go looking for more. That’s how it works, right?”

“That’s a good point,” Pidge agreed. They rested their chin on their knees. “Maybe we can work this job for a few months and put in for a different assignment. I don’t like this.”

“We haven’t even heard out what they want us to do,” Lance reminded them.

“Right, but I don’t know if I agree with all of this.”

“Let’s scope it out. Give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Keith and Shiro are nutso activists who inflated their story to garner pity. We’ve met enough of those types to know they exist.”

“We’ve also met enough of them for me to know Keith and Shiro aren’t those types,” Hunk argued. 

“Guys, I’m just trying to make you feel better about getting paid. We didn’t know. There was no way for us to have known. But we’re on TerraCorp payroll starting tomorrow, so we’re either going to have to make peace with it, or pack up and head back to civilization. Personally, I’m more inclined to get paid first.” 

Pidge and Hunk nodded, unable to refute their need for money. Credits were hard to earn in any of the urban centers for people with their skill sets. They’d all been drafted into the Alliance forces right out of school. Besides Pidge fast-tracking through a medical program, the only skills they had were combat and survival, which definitely came in handy, but didn’t lend to other civilian jobs. Security gigs were better money these days anyway. 

If there was one thing Lance had enjoyed about their journey so far, it was how crystal clear the sky was over the desert. He realized soon after the war ended that confined spaces weren’t really for him, one of the reasons he and Allura hadn’t worked out. She wanted him to get out of the Merc business. Stay in the city. Stop moving as much. Become sedentary. And though maybe that might be where he ends up when it’s all said and done, he wasn’t ready to do that just yet. He’d been gifted a second chance with his prosthetic leg. He wouldn’t have been able to afford it had the Alliance not covered it outright. He hated the idea of sitting around and letting it go to waste. 

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there staring at the vastness of space above them, glittering with stars and planets he’d only ever read about. He wondered idly if there were other planets out there that were inhabitable, perhaps that had their own populations of people living there already. Did they have wars like Earth did? Did they blow their own planets to Hell with Nuclear Bombs and lasers? Did they poison themselves with fossil fuels and plastics?

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” Chip observed as quietly as an Android could. He wasn’t the best at whispering. 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Lance sighed. 

“It’s not good for your health, Lance. You’re already running at a food deficit, which we may be able to correct tomorrow, but you’ll start feeling it if you don’t get some good rest.” Curse Chip’s biomedical scanners. 

“Then stop talking to me, Chip,” Lance grumped as he rolled onto his side. 

  
“You got it, boss,” Chip confirmed. 

_ Damn robot… _


End file.
